Guardians or Fools?
by Mewvallous
Summary: New Zealand has decided to secretly sneak off to Hogwarts in an attempt to stop Voldemort by himself, instead of the Boy Who Lived. However, after his enraged British brother orders him to, he is forced to watch over the prophesied Harry Potter instead. What he didn't expect was Australia tagging along with him. Right in the poor boy's fifth year.
1. Chapter 1

WARNING - Spoilers for both Hetalia and Harry Potter along with cursing! Enjoy!

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New Zealand gazed up at Hogwarts in awe, nostalgia washing over him as he watched shapes dart from behind the windows and lights flicker on and off. He was standing right in front of the majestic castle in the middle of the night, not caring about the mosquitos landing on him or the chilling air flowing around him. He was finally here. After hearing about Voldemort's return—he had been eavesdropping on some laughing witches and wizards—he had decided he would travel to Hogwarts and attempt to kill the wizard himself. Laugh at him if you want to, he was determined to be a hero. The New Zealander shook his head and snapped back to reality, tucking some of his chestnut brown hair behind his ear. Thankfully, his spiral-shaped ahoges stayed in place. His emerald green eyes widened as he thought his hairstyle might come off as unusual to the students. He relaxed however after being struck with the realisation that the kids were all wizards and witches. They have seen much more peculiar stuff, right?  
He quickly fumbled around in the pockets of his rather plain black robes to make sure that he wasn't missing anything. New Zealand smoothed his clothing out once he was sure he had brought all the necessary things. He turned around and bent down, picking up his luggage and heaving it onto his shoulders. It was time. Inhaling deeply, he knocked on the large, intimidating wooden doors of Hogwarts. Not even a minute later, the doors swung open, revealing a vast hall behind it and two people. New Zealand sighed gratefully. 'Hello, Albus, Minerva.' The witch greeted him, still rocking a familiar bun which kept her black hair in. Beside her, a great wizard with a gleaming silver beard smiled warmly.  
'Hello, Toby!' Albus beamed. 'Come in, come in. Ah, it's so good to see you.'  
'Same to you. How have you been, Minerva?'  
'I've been better,' she sighed, jerking her head towards the hall behind her, 'how about yourself?'  
'With Voldemort back, not so good,' New Zealand admitted, walking inside of the castle. He heard a heavy slam from behind him, indicating that the doors were once again closed. The Entrance Hall was alight with torches yet filled with a desolate feeling of emptiness as he continued to make his way through and towards the double doors to the right. Minerva and Albus trailed alongside him, quickly updating him on the latest events within the school. At the mention of a death, the New Zealander's eyes stretched wide. _Poor Cedric,_ he thought, sending a quick prayer to the deceased Hufflepuff.  
'Anyways,' Minerva coughed as they entered the Great Hall, filled to the brim with students and floating torches alike, 'the feast is about to start. Would you care to join?' As if on cue, New Zealand's stomach grumbled, attracting the attention of curious students. The nation flushed in embarrassment, before nodding timidly. Albus laughed, his eyes sparkling its common twinkle. The trio made their way up to the rest of the staff, the Kiwi allowing his gaze to remind him of the four house tables, which were stretched across the hall like usual. Once again, memories of Hogwarts evoked like explosions in New Zealand's mind. Once the wizards and witch reached the staff table, Minerva flicked her wand and a chair appeared next to a woman, one New Zealand did not recognise. She had white hair and silvery blue eyes, though she was dressed like any other professor, her witch hat sitting on top of her head.  
'Who are you?' New Zealand asked politely as he sat down next to her, avoiding her gaze as he watched Albus make his way to his tall, golden chair. His fingers accidentally plunged into a turkey, which had unknowingly been there the entire time. He instantly snatched his hands away, embarrassment radiating off of him for the second time.  
'I am Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank,' the woman answered. If she had noticed New Zealand's food mishap, she did a good job of hiding it.  
'Ah, I see. What class do you teach?'  
'I shall be taking over Care of Magical Creatures. Now, who are you?'  
'I'm Toby Kirkland,' New Zealand replied, reminding himself he must get used to the fact he had to use his human name. 'Uh, what happened to Rubeus Hagrid? I was informed I was going to be _his_ assistant.' Toby tried his best to not come off as rude, but his mind was being overwhelmed with questions as he spotted another unfamiliar professor.  
'I'm not sure. If I did, I would tell you,' the witch apologised.  
'Thanks. One last thing, who's _that_?' The Kiwi pointed to the squat woman standing beside Albus with a face which strongly resembled a toad. And Toby already knew of a frog. She wore an azalea shaded Alice band on top of her curly penny brown hair. She wore a distasteful pink cardigan over her robes. The witch appeared to be practically interviewing the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a frown stuck upon her flabby face. Toby stuck his tongue out. 'Ugh, her fashion sense would've driven my friends mad . . .'  
'That's Dolores Umbridge,' Wilhelmina said, appearing to have missed the Kiwi wizard's disgusted comment. 'Anyways, it's nice to meet you, Toby. I'm sure I'll enjoy working with you,' she continued happily.  
Toby stayed partially silent throughout the feast, only opening his mouth to either eat or respond to the greetings of the staff. When he wasn't being welcomed, he shrunk away from the watchful eyes of curious students, his cheeks bulging adorably with food. Despite his cute, shy, oblivious appearance, the Kiwi's mind was whirling with questions. _Where's Rubeus? Why is this toad here? Is she France's daughter?_ Toby laughed softly at his last question, only picked up by Argus Filch, the caretaker. The irritable man's bulging pale eyes narrowed, showcasing his cranky personality once again. Argus turned back to his food (well, more like the students eating and talking before him). After the few moments of awkward silence, the noisy chattering swarmed the hall once again. Toby managed to spot a ghost gliding towards the Ravenclaw table, and another towards the Hufflepuff table . . . The Kiwi smiled. Most of his life, he had experienced obnoxiousness and stupidity from nations. Whether he had to endure the yelling of a furious German, the unrealistic ideas of an American or the sheer annoying antics of an Australian. During these times, he was either arguing or watching the entire ordeal in the background with other relatively calm personifications. However, here in Hogwarts, he felt as if he was in a family gathering. A warm fuzzy feeling crawled up into his chest, allowing him to lean back into the chair in relaxation. His tense shoulders slumped, embracing the commotion of the students and staff. Though . . . he still didn't like this Dolores. Just the way she talked to Albus, hunched while silently whispering, it just annoyed the New Zealander. He turned away.  
After what felt like a few hours, Albus raised. Toby noticed Dolores sitting patiently in her seat, her hands tapping her knees as if waiting for something. The wizard admired how the students immediately fell silent, looking the old man with proud respect. The elder's eyes twinkled at his students' anticipated faces before speaking.  
'Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices.' Toby's ears perked up, wanting to make sure he hadn't missed anything. 'First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.' The New Zealander nodded, remembering the time he had sneaked out of Hogwarts to gaze at the Forbidden Forest and almost whacked by the Whomping Willow. Now _that_ wasn't fun.  
'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.' The nation raised an eyebrow. He hadn't remembered so many students breaking the rules when he was in Hogwarts.  
'Now, allow me to introduce Professor Kirkland, who shall be assisting Professor Grubbly-Plank—who shall be taking over Care of Magical Creatures lessons for now—during the year. We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

The hall was filled with an excited applause—and it didn't take long for the Kiwi to realise that the most enthusiastic clappers were female. A group of Hufflepuff girls were giggling, grinning widely at Toby, who now felt a little creeped out.  
'Isn't he cute?' one of them whispered loudly. 'So young to teach, though . . .'  
'Are you complaining?' another gasped. 'Be grateful we have such a cutie! I can't wait for our first Care of Magical Creatures class!' The New Zealander wanted to tune out, but his unfortunate ears were filled with the gushing of the dozens of girls in all of the houses.  
'Ahem,' Albus coughed, earning a thankful sigh from Toby. 'Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the—' Toby gazed at Albus, baffled. The wizard was staring at Dolores Umbridge, eyebrows raised questioningly. Once again, another bout of confusion filled the man's mind. It was only when Dolores cleared her throat, ' _Hem, hem_ ,' that Toby realised that she wanted to speak. Her coughs sounded horrible, just like her sense of taste. The professor looked taken aback before sitting down and turning back to Dolores, inclining his head as an approval. Like Toby, the other staff members looked surprised at Dolores's audacity.  
'Thank you, Headmaster.' Toby was visited with the instinct to cover his ears to protect himself from her girlish, high-pitched voice. 'I'm sure all the new members here, including myself, will appreciate those warm words of welcome.' She cleared her throat again—Toby noticed a few loathing glares from students—and continued. 'Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!' Dolores smiled a breathtaking smile - not the good kind. More like the negative kind. Toby couldn't help but whisper to Wilhelmina about her attitude, who only nodded in agreement. The new professor began to talk about whatever. The youngest (by appearance) wizard propped his elbows onto the staff table and rested his bored head onto the palms of his dirty hands, his eyes closing drowsily as his strict attentiveness started to fade.  
Toby sighed. This woman was getting on his nerves. He hadn't managed to catch whatever she was blabbing about—Dolores had successfully managed to be the first one to bore the New Zealander and throw away his attention. The personification glanced down at the students to see if they were paying attention either. Half of their heads were thrown back against their chairs in boredom while others had their heads leaning on their respective house table, drooling absentmindedly.  
The assistant turned to three Gryffindors, the only three who appeared to have control over their bodies. Toby instantly recognised one as Harry Potter, the boy who was rumoured to be crazy, thanks to the _Daily Prophet_. The Kiwi clenched his fists, looking away quickly. However, he didn't fail to notice the ravenette's suspicious eyes staring at him, swiftly joined by two other pairs consisting of blue and brown. A quiet tension filled the air between the students and the assistance, unknown to the rest of the wizards and witches in the room. Eventually, Toby felt the trio's glares fade off his skin.  
It took a few seconds for Toby to realise that Dolores's speech had ended. Before he could properly applaud her like the rest of the staff were, Albus stood up again. The optimistic man acknowledged her speech and began to talk about Quidditch once more. Not even a minute later, bangs and shouts flooded the Great Hall as all of the kids began to stand up and weave their away around. The first-years followed some older kids—Perfects or something? Toby couldn't remember—to their respective common rooms.  
'Toby!' Minerva called, beckoning him over to her. The New Zealander practically leapt out of his chair and hurried towards the woman. 'You have some drops of pumpkin . . . never mind. Anyways, we—the staff—have decided you shall be sleeping in the staffroom for now. Follow me.' Toby followed the Transfiguration teacher out of the Great Hall, able to see students of different houses disperse into different paths. The two wove hastily around corners and statues, finally entering an empty hallway, a few doors lining the walls. Minerva aimed straight for the first door on the left, opening it without a second thought. Toby ran in after her, making sure he shut the door. A familiar wardrobe was leaning against the wall next to a fireplace, which was alight, filling the room with warmth. On the opposite side of the staffroom, a small bed—which looked rather comfy—stood, a fluffy pillow awaiting with a tempting blanket. 'I hope you don't mind. You can set up your office tomorrow.'  
'I love it!' he beamed, flinging himself onto the bed. 'Thank you!'  
'You're welcome.' The professor grinned at his childishness. 'Have a good night.' And with that, Minerva left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Australia kicked his feet onto the table, yawning intentionally. The scene of fighting and yelling was starting to get old—even if he usually enjoyed arguments between his fellow nations. He stretched his mouth open in another soundless yawn, waiting for someone to break off their fight and scold him. However, it never came. The Australian felt an odd sense of loss . . . like his opponent never turned up to a game of cricket. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the room quickly. Germany never did finish roll call due to the moves of America, who had earned a smack over the head by Britain. But Australia now wished he knew who was absent. It wasn't that Canny guy—or whatever his name is— for he was watching his twin brother annoy countless nations.  
Te young personification waited for Germany to yell for everyone to shut up, but the German was busy talking to Austria, probably about the economy. Australia sighed. For once, he was going to be the mature and responsible one.  
'EVERYONE BE QUIET!' he bellowed, leaping to his feet. He tried to look as intimidating as Germany, but he was ninety-nine percent sure he failed. 'WE'RE MISSING SOMEONE!'  
'I'm here,' Canadia called, waving. Behind him, America laughed.  
'I know that, cobber. Someone's bailed.' Australia was in a way surprised by the attention the more bigger, important nations were giving him. The Aussie trailed around the large table, counting off everyone who was present, trying to ignore the snide remarks made by prideful personifications. 'Namibia, Nepal, Netherlands, New Zealand . . . Kiwi's gone!' That's when it hit Australia. The calm nation was gone. No wonder he wasn't told off. Britain's eyes widened.  
'Then where is he?'  
'If I knew mate, I'd tell ya,' Australia snapped, heading back to his seat in between Aruba and Austria. 'New Zealand's bottling his blood's worth, and it wouldn't be nice for him to cark it.' He slouched, distressed. It only turned to agitation when he noticed the countries staring at him as if he had sprouted a tail from his rear.  
'Ah, I think England raised you incorrectly.' France shook his head, glancing at Britain. Said man scowled in response.  
'Rack off, root rat,' the Aussie hissed.  
'English please!' America rounded onto his close friend. The nation growled at him.  
'He's having mood swings,' Papua New Guinea informed everyone. 'It's the heat in his country that's getting to him.'  
'Shut it!' Australia snarled, slamming his fists on the table. 'Are you going to help me or not? My brother's missing, and I'd rather not have him be eaten alive by a dingo.' Most of the personifications stayed quiet after that, besides a select few who whispered to the countries seated next to them. Austria frowned, muttering something under his breath.  
The Australian turned to Germany for help or advice, unsure on how to get all these countries to listen to him once more. However the German offered nothing except a frown. Australia sighed, resting his head in his hands. He tried his best not to imagine his younger brother murdered by some psychotic killer, or mauled alive by a shark, or poisoned by a snake which had left him to die alone . . . He turned to look outside a circular window, trying to enjoy the peace in Scotland. It was a beautiful scene outside, the ground masked with a pure white snow and children rolling around in it, surveyed by their parents. Snow could only be found in certain places of Australia . . . Australia should enjoy this. He was tempted to stand up and go out and horse around, but then he realised that New Zealand was still missing. He couldn't enjoy this without him. The urging aura swarming him just wouldn't fade away, but Australia stayed firm in his seat. He couldn't mess around now, he needed to recruit his allies . . .  
Canny guy.  
'Hey! Canny!' Australia held his hands to his mouth, allowing his voice to boom over the startled nations. 'Can you help me? You know a lot about snow, right?'  
'Y-yeah!' he squeaked. 'And, my name's Canada, sorry . . .'  
'Australian slang, mate!' the Aussie lied, a faint guilt hitting him. 'Anyways, what are we waiting for? Let's go.'  
 _Thud.  
_ 'Uh, dudes?' America looked uneasy after he swivelled around in his seat. Australia blinked at him, before turning to look at what the American's outstretched finger was pointing at. A tawny owl was scrabbling at the window, leaving claw marks all over it. It pecked at the window, as if it was trying to get in. However, Australia noticed the envelope it clutched in its talons. As soon as Britain saw it, he jumped out of his seat hurriedly and sprinted towards the window, colliding with it with another sickening thud. Groaning in pain now, the British man opened the window and snatched the letter out of the owl's talons, before allowing it to fly inside, earning shocked gasps from some nations.  
'You're kidding me . . .' Britain muttered, practically ripping the envelope open and reading the parchment inside. 'Oh for fuck's sake!'  
'Profanity!' Romania cried, covering Moldova's ears. The boy was shaking in excitement at the sight of the owl, and scrabbled at his older brother's hands.  
'What does it say? Who sent it?' America inquired, leaning in.  
'It's from New Zealand,' the British man responded, his voice quivering in fury. '"Dear England, I've decided to go to Hogwarts to serve as an assistant and defeat Lord Voldemort for you—we don't need no Potter! I'll make you proud, I promise. Say hi to the Aussie for me, but don't be too friendly. King regards, New Zealand,"' England read aloud, his eyes twitching.  
'Mouldevort?' Australia echoed. 'The hell is that? And why does Hogwarts sound familiar?'  
'It's because you've been there,' Britain sighed. 'It's that Scottish school where wizards and witches go.'  
'So, New Zealand's apparently assisting there now?' the Oceanic nation spat. 'That tin arse!'  
'No fair!' America wailed. 'Why can't we go?' He pulled his signature puppy face as if trying to persuade a mother to buy him a lollipop.  
'Because.' Britain fiddled around in his pockets for a pen before stealing Germany's paperwork and scribbling what looked like a reply on it.  
'ENGLAND!' Germany roared, reaching to snatch his work back. His attempts were in vain as Britain hastily stuffed it into the owl's talons. The bird instantly took off and out of the window. The meeting room erupted in commotion, chatting animatedly about the letter and New Zealand's new job. Australia puffed his cheeks out, falling back into his chair. All of his worry had disappeared into thin air, now that the Australian knew that his brother was off somewhere, waving a fancy magic wand and making baby chicks appear for two-year-olds.  
Without a second thought, he stormed out of the room, ready to give New Zealand a piece of his mind. Stomping through the thick snow, he angrily mumbled to himself, completely forgetting about the beautiful snow which surrounded him. The children who were previously rolling around looked up at him curiously, their heads tilted to one side. Australia turned towards them and quickly threw a fake smile their way so they wouldn't suspect anything. Woebegone as he may be, Australia wanted the youngsters to feel joyful. But as soon as he was some metres away from them, he began to hiss curses under his breath. _That rascal! He's going to get clobbered when I find him!_ A small part of his brain, however, was trying to find a reason for the Aussie's unfound rage at his Kiwi brother. Just minutes before he was admiring the scenery outside, now he was ready to punch New Zealand's skull in. The young nation pounded his way through the forest, practically pulling branches off as they brushed his rather handsome face. He grunted in pain when a sharp piece of bark slipped under his Band-Aid and onto his sensitive scar. In revenge, he pulled the piece of wood out and crushed it in his mighty fist. An owl hooted above him, as if they were cackling at Australia's misfortune.  
'What're you laughing at, shithead?' spat the Aussie. 'How sensitive of you to laugh at someone, who had a damn brother leave them to go on a magical journey?' That's when it struck him. 'Actually, get your feathered ass down here.' He grabbed a pen out of his pocket and a tissue from another one, all while watching the snowy owl fly down to him. The bird landed on his hand, eyes narrowed. Austalia sighed. 'I'm sorry, buddy. Didn't mean to yell at ya. Just . . . emotions, y'know? Man period.' The more the Australian thought about it, it did seem like a man period. New Zealand leaving him wasn't anything to get so worked over about. He did annoy him for half of his life, after all.  
He scribbled down a letter to New Zealand quickly, not minding the holes forming in the tissue. He wrote:

 _Dear New Zealand,  
_ _Not happy you left me, mate. We need you, with all the chaos going on. And whoever this Mouldy guy is, I don't want you dying trying to kill him, even if you're a nation. I miss you already. Why didn't you take me with you? Anyways, come back soon, or I will kill you.  
_ _Have a good day, Australia_

Australia gently pushed the tissue into the owl's talons. 'Don't tear it up.' With a flick of his hand, the bird took off and into the cloudy sky. The brunette man sat down beneath a tree, the crisped and frozen leaves floating down stiffly around him. He began to wait for his brother's response.

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Ahhh, thank you for your kindness everybody! ^-^ I really appreciate it! Sorry if this chapter was short, I tend to have problems lengthening them, lol. Anyways, thank you all so much once again!


	3. Chapter 3

You are all the best I swear- ;w; Also, thank you for reminding me to put a warning Guest! :D I'll put one in the first chapter-

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'First class with the third-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. . .' Toby scanned the timetable, searching for the Care of Magical Creatures classes. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach like a heavy stone, influencing him to slump in his chair or walk quickly around students, desperate to avoid them. When he was with Wilhelmina, he tended to peer over her shoulder to see if there were any specific creatures his class were learning about today. Early in the morning, he had scrambled around for his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ (someone had brought his luggage in the middle of the night, fortunately) and ended up finding it beneath a pile of socks. Even though the day had just begun, nervousness was threatening to take over Toby. What if he messed up? What if Wilhelmina decides that he just isn't good enough? His eyes began to water. _No, no! Keep it together!_ He rubbed his eyes as if he was just drowsy, trying to avoid the confused eyes of eating students.  
The Kiwi stood up from the staff table and quickly made his way out of the Great Hall. Once he left, he leaned against the wall and sighed. Since breakfast was almost over, he might as well make his way down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest for his lesson. He took out his wand (ten inches long, made out of cedar wood and consists of a core of unicorn hair) and kept it firmly grasped in his hand, just in case something attacks him. Another case of paranoia. Toby weaved throughout halls until he finally managed to find the stone steps leading down near Rubeus's hut, the Whomping Willow and the greenhouses clear in view with the Forbidden Forest hanging in the background. Toby steered off the path and towards the greenhouses, watching the ground slope down beneath him. The sun was only just hovering above the canopy, sending bright streams of light over the grounds. Toby looked around, hoping to see the shapes of students flooding towards his area or Wilhelmina. Or, even better, Rubeus. Then he remembered the owl he sent earlier. Did England receive his letter? _I hope so_. The New Zealander grinned widely to himself. If he killed Voldemort, then people and nations alike will admire him! He threw his wand into the air and caught it, striking a superhero pose. He flicked his wand and pretended to dodge an imaginary curse, as if fighting a Death Eater. He leaped into the air and landed dramatically on the ground, smirking a cocky smirk as if he knew he was going to win.  
'Toby?' a voice echoed, amused. The brunette whipped around, a fresh wave of embarrassment coloured red flooding into his cheeks. Wilhelmina was standing there, laughing. 'Are you pretending to fight a ballerina dragon?'  
'N-no!' Toby stammered. 'I-I was just practicing!' His eyes had widened to the size of saucers, perfectly reflecting his startled heart.  
'Sure you were.' The woman smiled. 'Anyways, that Mareventi you wanted to bring in. It seems good to go - I'm sure everyone will enjoy it.'  
'Great!' Toby chirped, completely forgetting about his shame. 'Ventsy needs some fresh air, anyway. She'll be delighted to see new ground!' He grinned widely as he pictured students giggling while watching the female Mareventi soaring through the air, spraying droplets of water onto the cheering faces. He pocketed his wand.  
His happiness might have been axiomatic, but it might as well have been nothing as he watched sunken third-years trudge towards them. The Kiwi raised an eyebrow. He watched some Slytherins mutter with their friends, while the Gryffindors stared in all sorts of places. Toby snapped his fingers, hoping the sight of a new magical creature would shock the students out of their gloomy spheres. A Gryffindor girl shrieked, pointing to the air as a large dragonfly zoomed towards the Care of Magical Creatures assistant. However, Ventsy wasn't a dragonfly. She had a beautiful crystal body, allowing distorted sunlight to filter through her form. Tufts of white fur hung from the bottom of her head like curtains, while two fins on the end of her tail flew around wildly. The gorgeous Mareventi caught the children's attention.  
'Hello, class,' said Toby as Ventsy landed on his head, snuggling into his soft hair. 'Please, take out _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ —wait, sorry, Mareventis aren't in that book for I'm sure Newt Scamander has never come across them.' Out of the corner of his eye, Toby saw Wilhelmina frown. ' _I_ know all about them, however.'  
'Why?' called out a Slytherin boy.  
'Because these creatures are native to New Zealand,' answered Toby, petting Ventsy on the head. The students gasped as she opened two wide, turquoise eyes. The third-years stared at the mesmerizing beast with outstretched mouths. 'This is Ventsy, everybody. She may look frightening—to some of you—but really, she's a sweetheart.' The Mareventi nodded. 'Mareventis are the guardians of New Zealand, unknown to Kiwis and Māori alike. They are quite rare, and only pure New Zealanders, such as myself, can find them. However, you must meet the specific requirements also, even if you _are_ pure New Zealander. I don't know these rules myself . . .'  
'Then how come you got a Mareventi as a _pet_?' asked a curious Gryffindor girl.  
'Ventsy isn't a pet, she's a good friend. Anyways, I must've fit the requirements without needing to know them.' Toby shrugged. Though, he knew why Ventsy was so kind to him. Because he _is_ New Zealand—the personification.  
'Toby,' Wilhelmina started, 'I don't see why the students need to know about a Kiwi beast.'  
'They do, trust me.' Toby linked his hands together. 'Mareventis are known to attack intruders, and they also travel to other countries sometimes without realising, such as England and Scotland. While strong, Mareventis have a hard time distinguishing between an enemy and a friend—no offense Ventsy, but Mareventis aren't the smartest. If these children were to come across one and accidentally anger one, they need to know how to command them to calm them down. Ventsy, you know what to do.' As soon as he finished, the crystal creature propelled herself into the air, and her wings began to swivel around unnaturally. Gusts of wind surrounded the class, earning a few shrieks from both Gryffindor and Slytherin.  
The Kiwi ran into the middle of the students, and held out a hand towards the sky. He snapped his fingers and twirled around in a circle, lowering down to the ground slowly. Bending, Toby clapped five times. Instantly, Ventsy ceased her fake attack and floated onto Toby's head again. The students applauded him, including Wilhelmina, as he stood up and bowed. Ventsy squirmed in his hair, specks of water flying off her transparent body. The third-years cried in laughter as they were showered with droplets. Wilhelmina made her way next to Toby before clapping.  
'Homework shall be relatively easy, so I expect for you to complete it,' said the professor. 'I want you all to practice that technique and put it into motion next week. You can all start practicing now, though.' Wilhelmina pointed to a lanky Slytherin girl. 'You! Come up here and show us all what Professor Kirkland did.' Giggling profusely, the Slytherin ran in front of them. Toby glanced upwards at Ventsy, who immediately took off and above the girl. 'What's your name?'  
'Maisie Lancrose,' replied Maisie, watching the Mareventi above her. Instead of wind, the Kiwi creature began to hurl water at her. However, the girl nimbly dodged the sprays of water and recited Toby's movements from a minute before. However, when she flattened herself towards the ground, a jet of water hit her in the chest hard, toppling her over. The Gryffindors exploded into laughter while the Slytherins muttered, their heads bowed in shame.  
'Stop,' Wilhelmina commanded, and instantly the Gryffindors stopped and the Slytherins raised their heads hopefully. 'Maisie did a wonderful job. After all, this is her first time. Laugh again and I'll take points off you.'  
Toby nodded. 'Yes. Anyways, who wants to go next?' About five hands shot up. 'Hm . . . You.' The Kiwi pointed to another Slytherin. 'Ventsy, go a little more easy this time, okay?' The Mareventi inclined her head. 'Good girl.


	4. Chapter 4

'We're gonna fail our O.W.L.s,' said Ron miserably as he collapsed in a chair. Hermione had just left for the girls' dormitory, leaving Harry and Ron alone. 'If we can't even find the muse, or concentration, to do our homework, there's no way we're going to complete the essays.' Hermione had been their only hope for completing any sort of assignment, and she had already gone to bed. If the pair were going to do any work, it would've been a bunch of false information.  
'I better hope Professor Umbridge let's me do homework in detention,' said Harry, though he couldn't help but agree with his friend. The Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson was a tragedy, and Potions was never Harry's favourite subject. He exhaled loudly, slouching in his chair. The breath had been building up in his chest without realising it, and when he released it, he was not only releasing air but stress—well, not all of it. What was Umbridge's detention like? She definitely didn't have fans like Lockhart, yet she seems as poisonous as Snape . . .  
'Hey, what are those girls giggling about?' asked Ron, pointing to a group of third-years consisting of both male and female. The girls seemed way too energetic for their own good, while the boys appeared to be agreeing with—whatever they were talking about—them more calmly.  
'That was the best Care of Magical Creatures lesson ever!' squealed a girl, earning nods from the rest of the group.  
'Yeah, Professor Grubbly-Plank and Professor Kirkland are _waaay_ better than Hagrid! They taught us how to defend ourselves against a creature, not to baby them!' That caught Ron and Harry's attention.  
'Oi!' shouted Ron, jumping to his feet. 'If I hear you gossiping about Hagrid again, there will be consequences!' Harry silently agreed, knowing that Hagrid wouldn't enjoy gossip about him when he wasn't present at Hogwarts. The startled third-years nodded, before continuing their conversation in hushed whispers. Though, Harry raised an eyebrow. They had talked about the two professors teaching them how to defend themselves . . . Shouldn't the defending be left to Defence Against the Dark Arts? Oh wait, the toad wouldn't allow it.  
'That's strange,' commented Ron, voicing Harry's thoughts.  
'Professor Kirkland must've done something.' Harry lowered his head, thinking. The professor appeared too young to be teaching as a professor already, didn't he? Well, Dumbledore already hired a stupid Ministry Official . . . So, was age no longer the limits? Or was there something bigger going on? He remembered how Professor Kirkland didn't seem too happy when he saw Harry—does he read the _Daily Prophet_ , too? Or maybe, he's a Ministry Official, too. So many questions, yet so little answers . . . Harry noticed Ron's focused stare on the third-years, appearing to be eavesdropping on them. Harry leaned forward unintentionally, but he couldn't deny he also wanted to hear more about Professor Kirkland.  
'He's so cute!' whisper-yelled yet another female. 'Ah, I want to squeeze him to death!' Harry sighed. Fans weren't new to Hogwarts. He had experienced plenty already, including Colin Creevey. But to gush over a professor? Now that's weird. Maybe he had put some sort of spell over the third-years . . . Or did he put one on himself? Once again, more questions.  
'He's cool and all,' began a boy, 'but for some reason, I feel a tight connection with him. As if we've known each other for centuries.' Now _that_ caught Harry's attention. A newly appointed professor . . . Even if he was so charming, why did the students feel so attached already? One lesson, he's been with the third-years, and look at them!  
'Me too.' A more calm female nodded. 'It's weird, honestly.' And that's when Fred and George swaggered over to them.  
'Ayy, my little pals!' Fred chimed in, slapping a surprised male on the back.  
'Whatcha talking about?' George asked merrily, though he was smirking.  
'Hi!' a third-year boy chirped. 'You're Fred and George Weasley, right? I'm Andrew Kirke! It's nice to meet you.'  
'Same to you!' beamed Fred. 'Hey, how about—'  
'You two buffoons already know how Hermione feels about your—rather helpful—treats.' Ron flashed them a cheeky grin. Fred and George looked a little crestfallen, but they continued talking.  
'So, what were you all chatting about?' George repeated his previous question, due to the lack of answers from the third-years.  
'Professor Kirkland,' answered Andrew Kirke. 'They're obsessed.' He jerked his small head towards the females. The only quiet one stepped away. Fred and George laughed in unison, enjoying the flustered blushes on the girls' faces.  
'Leave them alone!' Ron joined in teasingly. 'It's not their fault he's so good-looking. He also probably gave them a lesson on romance.' The shade of red deepened by a notch. It appeared Harry only noticed Ron's attempt to keep the third-years talking.  
'Ewww!' The first boy from before seemed playfully disgusted with all of them. 'For your information, he did not!'  
'Oh, really?' Fred lowered himself and peered right into the third-year's face. 'What did he teach you, then?'  
'Mareventis,' replied the boy proudly. Ron and Harry exchanged confused glances. Were they going to be taught about Mareventis, too? Or . . . Harry's suspicious mind took another leap.  
'Could Mareventis potentially be killing machines, ready to pick off the innocent third-years one by one?  
'Harry, stop it.' Ron cut into Harry's train of thought. 'You look as if you've swallowed a spider, mate.' Ron scrunched up his face. 'Ugh, that would be horrible.' Harry laughed quietly, before tuning back in on the main, and rather important, conversation. The third-years were all spluttering out embarrassed answers for the Weasley twins, who seemed quite satisfied with their work. Though, Harry managed to pick up snippets of information about Mareventis. Apparently, Professor Kirkland had one called "Vent" or something - and that they were native to New Zealand. Harry remembered hearing something about New Zealand back in his old school, but he wished he could remember it clearly. Didn't it have something to do with Australia? Yeah, it did. The ravenette desperately searched his mind for any scraps of memories about New Zealand. _They're really nice, right? They like kiwi fruits? Wait, no, it's not a fruit . . . reptile, maybe._ Harry narrowed his eyes, though he remembered the History class had been interrupted with jeers and taunts . . . _Hm. Professor Kirkland does look really nice, but I don't know about the others._ _Maybe he doesn't have anything to do with New Zealand, and the Mareventi thing is all a coincidence._ When Harry turned, he noticed that Ron also appeared to be deep in thought. Harry wondered what ideas he was coming up with, before realising he was probably worrying about if Professor Kirkland was going to make their Care of Magical Creatures homework about Mareventis. Harry's eyes widened as he came to terms with that Mareventis probably would be homework, and that it was going to add a lot more stress on both of them. Did Hermione know anything about these creatures? Knowing Hermione, she would and then ignore Ron's and Harry's pleads for her to say something.  
'I'm going to bed,' huffed Harry as he packed his books away in his bag. He would think more about this in the morning, if he wasn't straining to complete his uncompleted work. He saw Seamus staring at him, his eyes glittering in anticipation and his mouth open. Harry quickly passed him, not willing to deal with his business. Seamus can wait, sleep can't.

Hermione had joined Harry and Ron again by morning, patiently listening to their recounts about what happened after she left. She, once again, thought Harry's suspicions were crazy.  
'Hermione,' groaned Harry, 'I'm telling you, he's not what he seems.'  
'Harry, for the love of Merlin, Professor Kirkland isn't suspicious! He's an ordinary professor, who wants an ordinary job. You instantly assume any new professor is evil, I swear.'  
'Well, I mean,' started Ron, 'he hasn't been wrong. Lockhart is an exception, though he was fake as all hell. Did Harry even suspect him in the first place? I can't remember. Lupin doesn't count either, so don't get me started on him—Harry liked him, and so did I. Umbridge is a bluffing old hag, who can't see the truth even if it walked up to her and greeted her happily.'  
'He didn't suspect Quirrell, though,' said Hermione sneakily. 'Or Ma -'  
'Okay, guys, I get it!' whispered Harry loudly. 'Also, Hermione, at this point you're agreeing with Ron. I haven't suspected any professor, except Professor Kirkland and Snape.'  
'You've probably had your suspicions about more,' grumbled Hermione, leaning back. Harry just decided to agree. He didn't want to argue, he wanted to get this day done as soon as possible. Instead, he turned towards the staff table. Still no Hagrid. It didn't help that the weather was still poor - Merlin knows how those Gryffindor and Slytherin third-years survived their Care of Magical Creatures class. 'Anyways, if this Mareventi thing is real, I'll be excited for our next lesson,' said Hermione.  
'Wait, you're telling us you don't know what a Mareventi is?' Ron gasped, looking quite shocked. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, clearly not amused. 'Aw, I was only joking . . .'  
'If there's one thing I'm happy about,' Hermione began, 'is that the house-elves took the clothes.' Harry smiled slightly. Fat chance.  
'Yeah, right.' Ron also appeared to share Harry's opinion. 'They looked nothing like clothes, so they probably didn't count. Where did you learn your skills from?' Hermione stood up and left, to the surprise of surrounding students.  
Harry and Ron walked into the Charms classroom, being the last two students who arrived. Hermione smiled smugly at them as they received a scolding from Professor Flitwick, before urgently telling them to sit down. The two boys obliged, and continued to listen to fifteen minutes worth about O.W.L.s. They revised Summoning Charms—well, Harry didn't need to, due to the fact he mastered them last year, but practice never hurts—and finished off the rather easy lesson with a ton of homework. Double Transfiguration also started with a lecture about O.W.L.s from Professor McGonagall. But this lesson was definitely harder than Charms. Professor McGonagall had the class practice Vanishing Spells, and if they were apparently easier than Conjuring Spells, Harry had no idea how he was going to survive his N.E.W.T.s. Though, after leaving the Transfiguration classroom thinking about the easiest ways to vanish something, he bumped into Professor Kirkland himself.  
'Oh, sorry!' the professor squeaked. Harry stumbled backwards, nodding apologetically. Wait. Professor Kirkland! Harry instantly checked the male out, searching for anything suspicious. Professor Kirkland was holding a tissue in his small hands. Was that unusual? Well, no. But it was when it had poked holes in it while black ink drenched it. Harry could barely recognise the English language scrawled (to him, it was backwards) on the tissue. Whoever thought a tissue note was a good idea, obviously wasn't the brightest. Before Harry got a chance to comment, Professor Kirkland had run off, an odd looking item in his hand. It also had ink. What in the name of Merlin does Professor Kirkland possess? Ron had just managed to catch up, a look of plain scepticism on his face. But not even Hermione could come in between their unspoken, shared opinion.  
 _Professor Kirkland's hiding something._


End file.
